The Beginning is the End is the Beginning
by bookishandi
Summary: Beginnings and endings all tied up in knots. Rose and the human Doctor, one year later.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own _Doctor Who_, it owns me. One small idea turned into this big honkin' thing. Wouldn't have it any other way. The main chapters (purposely dialogue-heavy) take place from late June to early July, based on the idea that Ten!Too's "birthday" is July 5, 2008 (the airdate of "Journey's End"). The shorter interludes are vignettes of the time between.

Title inspired by The Smashing Pumpkins:

_Time has stopped before us  
>The sky cannot ignore us<br>No one can separate us  
>For we are all that is left<br>The echo bounces off me  
>The shadow lost beside me<br>There's no more need to pretend  
>Cause now I can begin again <em>

* * *

><p>She feels him move beside her. As her eyes open his boyish grin comes into focus. She responds with a lazy smile. "Finally awake then?" he asks, pulling the blanket down from her shoulders. She blinks as sunlight filters through the curtains. He props his head up, sets his book on the windowsill and gently brushes some of her mussed hair behind her ear. She groans a bit and lets out a huge yawn.<p>

"Up, 'm up," she adjusts her pillow and rolls on to her stomach, "What time is it?"

"Nearly 9:00 AM!"

"Doctor!" she groans and falls face-first onto her pillow. He hears something that vaguely sounds like English.

"Bits otter nay moaning? With a bit more growl in your voice, you'd just have been very naughty in Judoon." The Doctor wiggles his eyebrows at her.

"Shut it," she turns her face toward him; her smile betrays any serious annoyance.

"So, you gonna tell me why you're waking me before noon on a Saturday morning?"

"Because, Rose Tyler, we have the whole day without work and nothing else planned. Just us! Also, you sleep too much. One life, and you sleep half of it away!"

"You sleep, too, y'know. I don't know why you keep conveniently forgetting I'm not part Time Lord."

"Yes, well. Time to get up!" He sits up and shifts down the bed. Standing, he pulls on her arms until she's sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What day is it again?" she yawns and stretches her legs.

"Well," he replies, "You seemed to know it's Saturday so I'm guessing that's not the question. Losing track of dates, are we?"

"Like you said, it's been mad at Torchwood. Haven't had a day off in…what, two, two and half weeks?" She stands up, hugs him, kisses his cheek. He hums happily. She pads over to the closet, pulls a blouse off a hanger. "So?"

"Date, yes. Twenty-eighth of June. Saturday," he replies over his shoulder as he heads to the hallway.

"Blimey!"

"What?" He pops his head back in the door.

"It's almost been a year now," she seems stunned. "Feels like…forever. And no time at all." He sees her serious expression, steps out from the door, and leans on the frame.

"Time is rather like that. People laugh when I say wibbley-wobbley, but," He jumps up from the doorframe. "Hang on! Does that mean it's almost my birthday?" He waggles his eyebrows again, this time with more childish excitement than lust.

"I guess so," she thinks for a moment and grins, catches her tongue in her teeth. "So, what d'you want for your birthday, Doctor?" she asks, peeks up at him through lowered lashes. He can't resist that and walks towards her, places his hands just above her hips.

"Hmm, I can think of a few things."

"Something appropriate to give you in front of Mum and Tony."

"Oh. Well. I'll have to think harder then."

Around noon, they finally leave the house. Holding hands as always, they walk along the street and peer through storefronts. Rose looks at the Doctor while he gapes at something unnecessarily technological with the same amusement and excitement Tony looks at new action figures.

"Doctor?" she says quietly. He senses she is a bit nervous.

"Yeah?" He turns from the display as though it never had his attention. "Something up?"

"No. I was just wondering," she bites her lower lip. "What about a holiday?"

"Christmas, All Hallow's, St. Grakley's Feast of Nine Badgers…?" He looks at her with a bit of confusion.

"No," she laughs. "I mean for your birthday. We could go on holiday. You and me?"

"Oooh!" His eyebrows shoot up. "That would be brilliant! We haven't gone on a proper holiday!"

"Whisking an impressionable young girl through time and space isn't a holiday?"

"Not really. Not the same. Not a lot of beaches and swimsuits and relaxing and such. Nor did we take time off work." He hugs her, tightly. "So, a proper holiday! Where should we go?"

"I have an idea," she says quietly, almost imperceptibly looking away.

"Do you now?"

"Well, I was thinking. I…want it to be a bit of a surprise."

"I like surprises. As long as they don't end up being some sort of creature trying to eat me."

"No Time Lord human biological meta-crisis eating monsters, I don't think." She smiles at him cheekily; he beams in response.

"Such a beast would go rather hungry, considering its rather specific, in fact, unique taste. Hopefully if it was there, it'll have starved by now."

"Never can tell, though." She winks. He hugs her again.


	2. Interlude: May

_**Interlude: May**_

Initially the Doctor bristles at the idea of working at Torchwood. He trusts Rose and Pete, but the place holds too many painful memories. In the end, though, he relents: the idea of alien adventures with Rose is worth confronting his demons. He never gets used to paperwork, though. Moans and whinges; is always late.

Rose drops one mug of tea on the side table next to him then flops beside him with her own mug. He mutters something and she responds with a raised eyebrow that communicates her oft-repeated admonition: if you did it right away, it wouldn't pile up. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and goes back to work. She slides her feet under his thigh, grabs a trade journal from the basket beside the sofa and starts an article she's been putting off. She thinks it's only fair to share in his misery. He grabs his tea, sips it, sets it back down. He smiles and puts one hand on her shin, rubs small circles with his thumb, continues his paperwork.

A few years ago she would have thought this kind of normal life was not for her: she couldn't have it and didn't want it, either. Now, though she loves the running and adventure, it's these moments she treasures.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Despite the many differences between her home and Pete's World, Rose quickly discovers Londoner's voracious appetite for gossip is universal. Since her mysterious appearance five years ago, the young, blonde heiress to the Vitex fortune appears in at least one tabloid every month. She has, at different moments, been: the most eligible bachelorette in London, girlfriend to two different footballers and a cricketer at the same time, secret wife of a banker in Monaco, promoted at Torchwood because she cried at a board meeting, fired from Torchwood because she cried at a board meeting, admitted to rehab for a sex addiction or drugs or both, abducted by aliens, delivered to Pete and Jackie by aliens, and, most recently, _The Daily Sport_ reports she lives in sin with a mystery bloke. She laughs with the Doctor when the last two headlines appear; they are close to the truth.

A jet would be much faster, but for the Doctor's birthday, Rose decides to indulge in a bit of luxury. When she tells the Doctor they're taking Pete's zeppelin, the _Jacqueline Prentice_, he blanches. She tells the Doctor that since the media knows she's living with someone, she may as well show off her sexy mystery bloke. Still, they like some privacy. Her plans will take them far off the grid, and she figures anyone stubborn enough to follow them probably deserves a blurry photo of something.

As they board the ship, the Doctor notices Rose is nervous. He can't smell certain emotions like he used to, but he knows her tells. She bites her lower lip or chews on her right thumbnail or looks up and a little to the right when she's nervous. He sits beside her, squeezes her hand and beams a reassuring smile. She smiles back, wanly.

"I've never known Rose Tyler to be nervous about a bit of flying."

"No, no. It's not that. 's just, I want everything to go right."

"Oh, don't you worry. Me? I'll be happy anywhere. No need to worry at all."

"It's your birthday. I'm allowed to worry a little bit," She smiles back, genuinely this time. "You're not, though."

"Fair enough." When they reach altitude, the Doctor takes Rose's the hand and pulls her out to the observation deck. Comfort and luxury aside, the Doctor loves zeppelins. He has two reasons. The first is observation decks. On shorter flights, he spends almost the entire time there. The Doctor is often quiet on the deck; he watches the miniature landscapes pass below, eyes full of wonder and joy.

The second reason he loves zeppelins is the sound. When there is no observation deck, or the flight is long or mostly over the ocean, the Doctor inevitablyw curls up for a nap. She asked him once why he seemed to _like_ sleeping on zeppelins. When he told her the hum and vibration of the airship reminds him of the TARDIS, her breath caught in her throat. He said he never slept better than when he slept on a zeppelin, the nightmares weren't as acute. Since that day, she finds excuses to use zeppelins for travel, and never disturbs his naps.

The Doctor keeps guessing where Rose is taking him. He makes guesses based on location and direction. He tells her he's pretty certain they're headed to somewhere in Scandinavia, looks carefully at her in order to detect the smallest of tells.

"I'm not telling. That ruins the point of a surprise," she laughs, proud of her ability to keep him in the dark. She feels a twinge of guilt, though. Surprises are always a bit risky, especially this.

"Ah, Rose Tyler, Keeper of Mysteries."

"How many titles've you've given me now?"

"Eighteen. Well," he pauses, seems to count imaginary objects in the air. "Seventeen. No, wait. I count that one, even though I didn't say it out loud. Eighteen."

"What are you talking about?"

"Aha! No chance! I get to have my own secret. It's only fair."


	4. Interlude: March

_**Interlude 2: March**_

They sit on the sofa, not-watching the telly, when Rose hears a creak. She jumps up from the sofa like a guilty teenager, sees Tony at the foot of the stairs. He rubs his eyes, tells them he's had a bad dream. The Doctor sits up, sees the tears filling Tony's eyes and offers to take him back upstairs. After a few minutes, Rose decides to peek. She hears the Doctor telling Tony that it's not scaredy-cat to have nightmares, because he still does. Tony looks surprised and disbelieving, so the Doctor continues. He tells Tony what's important is to tell someone who can help and what is really brave is to go back to sleep even if you're scared. Tony tells the Doctor he's a good helper, asks who the Doctor tells. The Doctor thanks him and tells him it should be obvious that his sister is the best. Rose feels tears prick her eyes, and leaves the two alone.

She asks him later if he still has nightmares. He nods, tells her he still has all the dark memories but now he has to sleep more and there's no psychic link with the TARDIS to calm him. When he sees her reaction—shock, panic, sadness, guilt—he cups her cheeks with his hands and pulls her forehead to touch his. He tells her she's worth the nightmares. The rawness in his voice at that moment sends chills up her spine. Rose didn't know until that moment that she could feel so inadequate and so deeply loved at the same time.


	5. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

In the early afternoon, the zeppelin pauses in Copenhagen to refuel. Rose smiles at her sleeping Doctor and pulls a few magazines from her bag. He laughs at her sometimes, when he catches her reading articles like, "Make Your Bum Bikini Ready;" tells her she doesn't need to worry about _that_. After an hour or so, once she learns from a five-question quiz that she _is _too picky when it comes to guys (it's not her fault he's multiversally unique), she gives up. Guilty pleasures only last so long. She gazes out the round window, trying to get an idea of where they are, when she hears a low moan from the seat beside her.

She looks over at the Doctor. He's restless, tosses his head, quickly becomes more agitated. She reaches out to touch him when he gasps and sits up with a strangled yelp. Rose jumps back; waits for some sign that he is ready to talk. The Doctor rakes his hands over his face, breathing heavily, "No, no, no," he mutters. He follows this with a string of melodic syllables she does not understand but knows are Gallifreyan. She thinks he may be uttering the most beautiful string of curse words she's ever heard.

"Doctor?"

"No, no, NO!" the Doctor nearly shouts, jumping from his chair. "No, no, what am I doing? How could I do that? No!" Rose stands up, tries to comfort him, but he tenses and pulls away. Rose looks hurt. The Doctor turns to her and gasps, "No, it's not you, I just need a second—" Rose leans on the armrest of one of the chairs. After a few more moments of pacing, he leans against the wall and slides to the ground.

"Doctor?" Rose asks again. He looks up at her, spent and afraid, head still shaking.

"What've I done?"

"Doctor, it must have been a bad dream. You've been sleeping."

"No, not me-me," he gestures at himself and then the ceiling. "_Me._"

"Oh," her voice is small. She walks over and kneels beside him, puts her hand on his knee. "What…?"

"It was…" he tries to catch his breath. "You know how time has fixed points and then there's time in flux?"

"Yeah, you've sort of explained it. Time in flux can…"

"Be changed, yes. But fixed points _have _to happen. If they change, then time would be so fundamentally changed that the universe could collapse on itself."

"Okay. So, what did you—he—do?"

"He—I—he—blimey pronouns are difficult here," he gives her a small smile then. She smiles back, turns so that she sits beside him, and takes his hand in both of hers.

"Go on, it's okay."

"He went crazy. He decided he 'won' the Time War. He interfered with a fixed point in time."

"What…?" Rose feels her stomach drop, thinks she may get sick.

"The point happened anyway, but it's his fault now. He turned a hero into a villain. A brave innocent woman looked like a coward because I… I'll…I'll tell you later. Not right now. I can't…" He hangs his head between his knees. She knows he is weeping, wraps her arms around his shoulders, kisses his hair, and says nothing. After a few moments, she can tell he has regained some composure. A question has been forming in her mind.

"Doctor?" She says. He looks up at her, his eyes red and tired. "How?"

"How?"

"How do you know? What the Doctor did?" Rose pulls his hand from the back of his head, cradles it between hers.

"I can feel him, sometimes," the Doctor responds quietly. He still seems to be suffering from the emotional onslaught. "Never anything very specific, not usually. You know how they say twins are a bit psychic? Sort of have inkling about what's going on with the other? I imagine it's something like that." Rose nods at him, but the furrow of her brow remains.

"But I thought…" She treads carefully here, lets him babble when he's scared.

"The worlds can't be connected? Yes. Well, I'm not sure the universe was planning on something like me to come along. Anyway, it's very faint. Except just then."

"So did you see something? Feel something?"

"I felt what he was feeling. No images or anything, just the emotion. Like when you suddenly feel sour or cheerful for no reason at all. But that was…"

"It woke you up."

"Yep."

"What…what kind of…?"

"Guilt. So much guilt. Anger and sadness. Self-directed of course," he exhales deeply—Rose is not sure if he is sighing or trying to catch his breath. "I usually don't get details, but."

"You got some just now, yeah?" She asks. He nods. "What does that mean?"

"Don't know. Could be there's a crack in the universe near where he did it. Could just be that it was so powerful a feeling, I felt it more."

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know. I can't feel him now."

"No, _you_. Are you going to be all right?" She puts a palm up to his cheek, runs her thumb across his cheekbone.

"I'm always all right," she glares at his response. "Yes. But…that was quite a fright. And…I'm worried about him. Me. Us. Whatever pronoun works."

"Yeah," Rose feels the tears in her eyes, sees them in his. "Is…?"

"What, Rose?"

"Is he alone?" her voice cracks as she asks. The Doctor nods grimly.

"I think that's what made him do it," the Doctor replies. Rose leans into his shoulder; lets herself cry for that Doctor and her Doctor. The Doctor runs his fingers through the hair "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with this, feel this."

"Don't. Don't you dare. We're in this together, me 'n you. I'm sorry he's alone, but I'm angry you have to suffer for his mistakes. You were the same, but you're your own man now."

"I don't think he's doing it on purpose," the Doctor smirks.

"No, he wouldn't," Rose sighs. "But he gets wrapped up in his own pain sometimes. Doesn't realize what he has, only what he's lost."

"He's lost a lot. We share the loss of the Time War, what it was like to lose you at Canary Wharf. But he's lost you again, and Donna. I…I can't even begin to imagine how I'd…"

"I know, I know," Rose replies. "But you don't have to think about that. You chose this life, with me. You let me in. He shuts us out because he's so afraid to lose us. But anyway" She smiles shyly, kisses his forehead. "I can be bit protective, too, yeah?" He smiles in return

"It's fading for me, so he'll be okay. It's hard to tell how much time passed for him. I know it moves a great deal faster on our side. A year for us…a month or so for him." The Doctor struggles to his feet, uses the wall for support. Rose gets up beside him. "Well," he says, dusting his trousers. "That happened."

"Does it happen a lot?"  
>"Not really, no. And when it does, like I said, usually just a little twinge. But I was sleeping, taken by surprise, and the emotion rather intense. I imagine if I was awake I could've felt it coming on." He looks at her, can tell she's shaken. "Rose," he says, barely more than a whisper, and she buries her nose into his chest, lets his arms wrap around her. "Rose, I'm all right. Promise. And I think he'll be all right, too. In the end."<p>

"Good," she answers, looking up at him with a small smile. "I want my Doctors safe."

"Well, you can keep an eye on me. I happened to have been in the middle of a lovely nap I would like to resume," he says. Rose nods; she knows how tiring grief can be.

"Know better than to get between you and a zeppelin nap. 'S okay, we've probably got another hour or so to go." Back in their seats, the Doctor rests his head on Rose's shoulder; she leans against him. His breathing evens out, and Rose finds she herself is a bit drowsy. Her eyes begin to flutter shut when she hears him speak.

"Rose?"

"Yeah?" She worries something is wrong, but doesn't want to panic. She resists the urge to scramble from the chair and check his vitals; realizes his voice is calm and quiet. He is about to fall asleep.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Sitting with me. Staying. Being you. Everything." She feels the weight of his head; his eyelashes tickle her shoulder as they close. If he wasn't falling asleep, he could see the blood rising to her cheeks. She smiles, leans against him. Soon her eyes flutter closed as well.


	6. Interlude: December

_**Interlude 3: December**_

The first time they row, he's sick. Nothing too bad, but it's enough to lower his inhibitions. She tells him he never _used _to do something. He reads it as a comparison to his other self; explodes. Asks why she didn't just say he's never going to be enough for her. She wasn't even thinking about that implications; thought they were past worrying about comparisons. Hurt, she snaps back; tells him he mustn't know her very well at all. He reads that as another (unfavorable) comparison and stomps away, punching the sofa as he leaves the room.

She runs to the shower, gets in and cries hard. She feels bad, not for what she said, though. She knows she must have touched something raw, the way he reacts. She didn't mean to. It's easy to forget that both of them lost that day, both were left with issues to resolve and just because she's mostly figured things out doesn't mean his fears don't linger.

When she gets out of the shower, he is sitting on the floor in the hall on the other side of the bathroom door. His eyes are red and ragged. She leans against the doorjamb, listening. He tells her he's sorry (so sorry) he doubted her; that he doesn't, couldn't. He tells her he feels so inadequate sometimes, that he has stupid, bloody sinuses that get stupid, bloody infected and his head hurts and he's so tired. That he never, ever wants to make her cry. She sits beside him, holds him, forgives him. She tells him that if she were to make a comparison, the old him wouldn't have told her this so openly. That she loves him, all of him, so much.


	7. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

The stark beauty of the place surprises Rose. In the past, she was rather too preoccupied with the events to notice the place itself. She never saw the gentle slope of the rocky hills or the way the waves crash onto the soft, if cold, sand. She thinks there is something about colder ocean fronts, something austere and sublime that warmer, more pleasant, beaches lack. As it has both previous times, her hair whips in the wind, stinging her cheeks.

"Sure you're good?" She calls up to him as he peeks through the exit in the bottom of the zeppelin.

"Do you mean about before?" he asks. "Yeah, back to ship-shape." She hears the sound of the Doctor clambering down the ladder. "Oh," she hears him gasp as he finally realizes where they are. Dårlig Ulv Stranden. Bad Wolf Bay. She looks back at him, the nerves she previously held at bay surface at full strength. She bites her bottom lip, almost pleading.

"Is…is this okay?" She asks.

"I'm not angry, if that's what you're afraid of," he responds, walking closer to her and touching her arm. "Surprised. It's just…why?" She doesn't respond immediately, just sighs and holds out her hand. He takes it, and walks behind her down the path to the Bay. When they are a few meters from the zeppelin, she begins to speak.

"It comes to me in flashes: the golden light. The roar of galaxies turning. Timelines sparkling and twirling. Yours was bright blue," here she stops for a moment and turns back to him with a small smile, "like the TARDIS." Her smile becomes a bit sheepishly then.

"Those memories…you shouldn't…" the Doctor begins to reply. She nods.

"Like I'd forget our first kiss," she flashes a coy smile. "It's just flashes and images in my dreams. Don't worry, no headaches." They reach the path that leads down to the beach. "It's not just 'Bad Wolf' I keep hearing, though. I realized that it really was 'I am the Bad Wolf.' _I _am. For so long I thought I was…we were…the victims of some cosmic something-or-other. But it's not that, _I'm_ the Bad Wolf." She looks at the Doctor; he nods, encouraging her to continue. "So I thought, if it's me, why not take a little control?" They reach the beach, letting go of each other's hands and turning to face the ocean. Despite her brave claims, her voice shakes as she continues. "Twice we've been here now. Twice it was the worst day of my life." She looks over at the Doctor again; he studies the sand with an impressive dedication. She smiles, reaches out and touches his elbow. He looks up. "Didn't let me finish. Once it was also the best day of my life." She smiles, and the corners of his lips turn up in response. Rose crosses her arms in front of her, in the brisk wind, "So I thought, if I'm the Bad Wolf, maybe I can bring a little balance? Show the universe who's boss. I'm tired of being the victim" At this the Doctor visibly brightens. Rose bumps her hip against his. "Whatcha think?"

"Oh, Rose." The Doctor pulls her as close as he can. She snuggles into his shoulder, breathes in salt and the smell of him. "It's more than okay. You are brilliant, you are. And," he makes a mental note to tell her the truth about what happened in the pit on Krop Tor, "You were never a victim."

"Big Bad Wolf." She pushes back so that she can look at him. He smirks. "So. New beginning, karmic balance. Do-overs. Whatever." She steps away, faces him. "How long are you gonna stay with me?" He smiles brilliantly, then puts his hands in his pockets and steps his feet apart a bit.

"I've only got one life, Rose Tyler. I could spend it with you, if you want," he says, trying to emulate his cadence a year earlier.

"I…" Tears begin to form in her eyes. She cannot tell which tears are grief, which are relief, and which are joy. As with the time before, her breath catches, she reaches up to her face to wipe away the tears. "I love you." He wants to hold her but knows that now is the time for words, words they need to hear and say. She deserves it. They deserve to have this moment on their own terms. "Quite right to." He chokes on half-laugh. He notices that he, too, has tears in his eyes. He pushes away his tears with the heel of palm. "And I suppose, since it's the right time to say it; Rose Tyler," he pauses. Even a year of new memories, after a new chance at a life with Rose, the pain of that moment a year ago overwhelms his senses.

But, he marvels, too. The human heart (hers, always; his, now) is so much bigger on the inside. Now, three hundred and sixty-five days on, she is giving him a birthday present worthy of Rassilon: a chance to rewrite history. He almost can't believe she's real: this incredible human he met by chance in the basement of a department store while chasing homicidal mannequins, this council estate girl who didn't even take A-levels brought the last of the Time Lords back from the brink of self-destruction, this woman who laughed in the face of "impossible" and broke the laws of time and space to cross the void and find him. It amazes him. He has loved many people in many ways: family, enemies, friends, lovers, crushes. He knows the fascination, duty, loyalty, obligation, affection, passion, pain, happiness, anger, disappointment, obsession, astonishing power of these loves. But at this moment, he finds that of the billions of words he knows in hundreds of thousands of languages none adequately describe how he feels about the woman standing before him on the beach. Like this place's namesake, when he looks up at her now he feels light and fire and time and space. It is beautiful and dangerous and whole and he wants to finish the sentence, to say "I love you," but it suddenly feels inadequate. He said it once on this beach, on Worst Day #2 and Best Day #1. He wants to say something that will let her know he doesn't _just_ love her, but that he needs her, he wants her; that she is worth fourteen refinanced mortgages and carpets and ceilings and even carpeted ceilings and…he knows what to say. He looks at her, can see that she senses how fast his mind had been moving, how many sparks shoot between his synapses, even if it only a moment has passed since he said her name. "Marry me?" She looks at him, tilts her head. Her mouth falls open, but she doesn't answer. He realizes she is surprised, uncertain how to respond, so he decides to explain.

"It's just that, y'see, I know if we were following the script I should have said you I loved you, but I already did that. Here, last time. Plenty of times since. And I realize it was a rather rubbish proposal, I don't have a ring or anything. Well, to be honest, I wasn't really planning on proposing."

"Doctor," she says, insistent. Then quietly, "I'd love it."

"No no no, that came out wrong. I mean, I was, eventually. I have been thinking about it, actually. But I wasn't planning on doing it just now. I was just thinking that I'd already told you I love you, and it just didn't feel, oh I don't know, adequate. I wanted to give you something more than just that phrase; something old me never could , something unique to us, here. And 'I love you'—which I do, just so you know, so much—it wasn't enough. And you are giving me—letting me rewrite a history, letting me go back and do things the way that I couldn't. We used to bloody time travel and this…So I thought, what can I give you? I can't give you forever, not really, because I know what that means and I used to have it at my disposal and I've only got this one life and I've already offered that to you, too."

"Doctor, of course I will" she shakes her head at him.

"Beginnings and endings all tied up in knots. That's why you've brought us here, to start something new at the place we ended and began. So I thought, well, marriage is like that. It's the end of a comedy, right? In the traditional sense. At the end of a tragedy, everybody dies, but in comedies it's not just that everyone lives but that they get married. And that's brilliant not just because it's a great place to end, of course, but because marriage is a beginning of something new, too. Just surviving isn't enough to counteract the tragedy of death. Living with a new purpose, with the promise of new life, of dying to the old you, yes, but then, then. And Rose! I used to be one person, now I'm split in two and they say marriage is making two people one. A new life. A new life with a hand to hold."

"Doctor, listen yeah?" Her voice is more insistent.

"But this isn't just about the theory of plays and ending, it's that I…" He realizes she is trying to stop him. He is babbling. He looks up at her, and she shakes her head then begins to laugh. He looks around him, wondering if there is something he missed. "What?"

"Doctor, I've said yes several times now."

"Oh," he replies. "Well, then." She really laughs, then, seeing his face awash with confusion. He smirks, laughs as well. "Brilliant! Fantastic!"

"Molto bene." She answers as she pulls him into her arms, and for a while they embrace, laughing, on the sands of Bad Wolf Bay.


	8. Interlude: September

**_Interlude 4: September_**

She hears him call her as she opens the front door. He tells her he's in the kitchen, though she notices, with a half-smile, he sounds distracted. Wondering what he has gotten into now, Rose drops her keys in the bowl by the front door, slips out of her shoes and pads down the hallway. He sits in the middle of the on the linoleum floor, bits and bobs fan scattered around him. In one hand he has a half-eaten banana; he holds up her toaster (half torn apart) with the other. His jacket hangs neglected over a nearby chair and his tie has been tossed over his shoulder. He looks up at Rose as she leans against the corner wall with a brilliant smile on his face. He tells her he thinks he can use some of these bits to make a new sonic screwdriver, then takes another bite of his banana.

At that moment it hits her with the force of a hundred supernovas. The existential crises seem foolish, overwrought. He is the Doctor, and he is here, and he isn't going anywhere. He is not a consolation prize: he is everything the Doctor was and everything he couldn't be. Her brilliant, mad, ancient, boyish, banana-loving Doctor. The parts he lost? Unimportant in the scheme of things. She didn't travel through dimensions for his spaceship or because he lived forever.

She tells him, her voice emphatic, that she loves him. He smiles softly and stands, drops the toaster (and the banana) beside him and pulls her into his arms, kisses her properly for the first time since the beach.


	9. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The late afternoon sun dips in the sky. The Doctor and Rose lie on the ground, his coat beneath them. They watch the sky. Rose snuggles her head on his chest, wraps her arms around his stomach. They talk about their life as it is now, about the past, about the future. They sit in amiable silence after the conversation tapers off. The Doctor thinks such perfection cannot last, when a loud grumble resounds from his stomach.

"Hungry, then?" Rose asks, not yet moving.

"I suppose so," the Doctor replies, blood rising to his cheeks. "I'll have you know I was trying to ignore that."

"'S okay, it's getting late," Rose stands, dusts sand from her jeans. "I figured we can stay on the zeppelin tonight. Tomorrow, we go wherever you want, Birthday Boy." She stretches out her hands to help him up.

"Oh, well, we didn't need to borrow the zeppelin for _that_." He grins wolfishly as he takes her hands, pretends he's pulling himself up, then pulls her down onto him. She stays for a moment, tempted by his body heat in the increasingly chilly evening breeze.

"What about Barcelona? No noseless dogs in the city, but you never did take me."

"We kept getting distracted. You know what would really be thematic?" He chuckles, clearly proud of his impending joke.

"What's that?" Rose responds flatly; she prepares for a horrible pun.

"We say we'll to go to Barcelona, only to be called away on a worldwide alien emergency somewhere over Berlin," he smiles. "We'll keep trying to go to Spain for our anniversary but we'll never get closer than Madrid, only to discover Barcelona is a paradox and doesn't really exist. An elaborate ruse perpetrated by aliens who just happened to be really good footballers." She laughs then, like a tinkling bell amidst the waves. They fall back, laughing manically. They laugh not so much at the joke, but because they revel in the joy of being alive and together, planning a future instead of reeling from the pasts that haunt their memories. They remain still for a few moments once the laughter fades. Finally Rose sits up.

"We should get going, though, yeah? It's getting pretty chilly and I'm getting hungry, too." She offers her hands and this time he takes them to stand.

Rose begins to walk toward the zeppelin while the Doctor beats the sand from his jacket. As he flaps his jacket, he feels an itch. Before he cares to respond, he remembers being barefoot on the moon and it strikes him that he feels a _radiation _itch. He begins to call for Rose but all that he manages is a strangled gasp. In the space of a few short seconds the itch transforms into intense pain. He calls out to her, trying for her name but he knows he can't articulate it fully. He falls to the sand, desperately reaches for his receding consciousness.

Rose hears him call and turns to see him collapse to the ground. She runs over, kneels beside him. His eyes are rolling back in his head.

"Doctor? Doctor!" she screams, pulling her head up onto her lap. She feels for his pulse and finds one; it beats exponentially too fast. He moans. She pushes his hair back. "Doctor?" she pleads.

"Rose?"

"'S me. I'm here. What happened, what's wrong?"

"Rose," his voice is weak, more groan than speech. "It's him."

"Oh, God," Rose gasps. "Like before? But that was mental, emotional—this?"

"Hurts," he gasps. "Hurts. Something…bad." His eyes roll again, he convulses.

"Doctor, stay with me, yeah? Come on, stay awake."

"He's…dying."

"Doctor," Rose replies firmly. "You're you. He's him. You were the same, but you're your own man now, right?" Her voice becomes desperate. "You fight this, whatever it is."

"He's dying. I don't know what…" he coughs. The urgency of whatever pain wracks his body seems to fade. "I don't know what's going to happen to me."

"You're gonna be fine," Rose kisses his forehead. He grabs her hand, clutches it like a lifeline. "I'm sure he'll be fine, too. You're both stubborn. Too stubborn." His grip lightens, his breath evens, but the panic in his eyes remain.

"Oh, no. No no no."

"What? Doctor, tell me. Please!"

"He's…he _is _dying."

"What?" Rose's voice squeaks out an octave higher than usual.

"I can feel it, pretty clear now," he moans.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Not so much. But," he tries to sit up a bit, collapses back on her lap. "I feel so weak. That's getting worse. And…he's saying goodbye."

"What do you mean he's saying goodbye?"

"Radiation. Kills slowly. He has the time."

"What happened?"

"Don't know, exactly," he lefts his shaking hand to Rose's face, she covers it with hers. "Listen to me, Rose. He's dying. I don't know what's," he chokes, tears forming in his eyes.

"You'll be fine," Rose feels tears forming in her own eyes. In her mind she curses this beach with the foulest words she can conjure. Who was she to challenge the Bad Wolf?

"I don't know what's going to happen to me if he dies."

"You're your own thing, yeah? You'll be fine. We'll get through this. Maybe it'll be easier for you once he's changed?"

"Maybe. Oh," for the first time since he fell a smile graces his face. This all reminds her too much of their reunion in the street just a year ago. "Mister Mickey."

"What?" Rose is confused.

"He's gotten married. To Martha Jones," he laughs weakly. Rose smiles despite her tears.

"How did you…?"

"I can't see anything, but…it seems our psychic link is particularly strong right now and I can sense what he's seeing. He's making the rounds…oh." This time, rather than smile, tears fall fully formed from his eyes. "He's at the last stop."

"Who?"

"Does it need saying?" he responds. Her eyes go wide. Suddenly, as if a door once locked blasts open, she remembers. A sick-looking bloke outside the estate. Nice smile, great hair. She buries her head in the Doctor's chest, chokes sobs. After a moment, she asks, "Doctor, is he alone?"

"Yes."

"If you can feel him, can he…?"

"I imagine," He begins to grit his teeth. "Probably you, too."

"Can you let him know…he's not alone? I'll always love him. Tell him thank you for this. And…have a fantastic life." He smiles at her.

"You're amazing, Rose Tyler."

"Doctor? You won't die?" She means to declare it, but she can't withhold the panicking question mark.

"I don't know." he sighs. He runs his hands through her hair. "Maybe not. But if the radiation hurt, the regeneration will really…" he gasps then. "I think…it's starting. Rose…I'm scared. I…I don't wanna go."

"I won't let you go anywhere, hear me?" she looks at him, expression hard, as if her disapproval is enough to convince the universe. The Doctor manages to smile despite his grimace, pulls himself up to give her a small kiss on the cheek, then lets his head drop and screams. Rose holds him tightly to her chest, feels if she lets go he would blow away in the wind. He stops screaming. Rose looks down and sees his eyes open and moving, feels his chest heaving. She hugs him again, feels his arms come around her shoulder, hold on to her tightly.

"It's over," he whispers, heavily. "Still here." The Doctor honestly didn't know whether he would die. He realizes he hadn't thought about what might happen if the full Time Lord died. He is tired, so tired, but otherwise feels fine. Free, even. He is beginning to form a theory about the intensity of the experience and the place itself. He hears her crying the heavy tears of relief, decides to shelve the theory for now. "I'm…I'm okay now. Promise." Rose releases him from the vise of her hug. She pulls back to look at him. She musses his hair, palms his cheek. She feels the pulse in his neck, then slides her palm down to his heart to feel for its beat. With her other hand she wipes away her tears. "Rose?"

"Yeah?" She returns her palm to his cheek.

"He's still not ginger," he says. She laughs then, genuine but watery. Leans over and kisses him.


	10. Interlude: July

_**Interlude 5: July**_

The first night back at the Tyler estate, they don't talk much. Around midnight they retire to separate, but neighboring, rooms. Both are exhausted but neither finds sleep easily. At different times of the night they each lean up against the shared wall, trying to feel through to the other side.

He wonders if she could ever love this him; duplicate, TARDIS-less, apparently genocidal. He feels less-than, inadequate, as though he's been ripped in two—which he decides is appropriate because he has. He isn't sure what he is anymore: Time Lord, human, a bit of both. He only knows he needs her. He has no idea what that means for him, what it means for Rose.

She wonders if he would ever be satisfied with her; no longer a plucky nineteen year-old but battle-hardened, stuck on the slow path. She hasn't wrapped her head around his existence yet, but the Doctor was never straightforward. On the other hand, she always was—human, companion, short-lived, pink and yellow. It's been years and she is no longer so fond of pink, carries a sidearm on Torchwood missions. She is older, more tired, less optimistic. She only knows she needs him. She has no idea what this means for her, what it means for the human Doctor in the next room.


	11. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

"Is it gonna be that bad every time he regenerates?"

"I don't think so. Already the link feels weaker. I think it was so intense for this me because that him was the me that…made me." She smiles at his confused expression. He wriggles from her arms, sits up with his own strength. She stands up, notices her legs shaking. She looks out to the water, watches the slowly encroaching waves.

"This bloody beach," she says. The Doctor reaches out to her, she helps pull him up.

"Well," he says with his usual swagger. Were he not a shade paler green than his usual color, Rose isn't sure she would know he almost died. "That's not so much the beach's fault. That, my dear, was bloody bad timing. I might have felt it a bit at home, but I think the walls between the universes must be thin here. That's probably what happened on the zeppelin earlier, too." He holds out his hand for Rose, wiggles his fingers.

"You're acting like nothing happened," she responds, skeptical.

"Nothing did."

"He died."

"No," he puts his hands in his pockets. "He regenerated. There's a significant difference, you know that."

"He might've. Besides, coming back on the other side doesn't make it hurt any less," Rose crosses her arms in front of her chest, hugging herself.

"True. But I didn't die. And if I was going to, I don't think it would matter where we were."

"You scared the shit out of me," she spits, a bit angrier than she intends. Shakes her head at herself.

"I'm sorry," he tenses, looks at her with genuine concern. "I…"

"'S okay. Not like you planned it," she replies with a soft smile. He chuckles then, and she looks up at him questioningly.

"I'm not going to say it," he responds. She glares. "A bit of sarcastic Donna coming out again. You'll get angry. You may even slap me. I'm not sure I can take that. You've been trained by the best slapper in London." She continues to glare. "Fine. Promise you won't slap me?"

"Yes. Only because it's your…" she stops, looks thoughtful. "That's poetic, I guess. It's your birthday."

"Brilliant!" He laughs, hugs her. She does not hug him back immediately, but cannot hold off for long. "Born and re-born. Sort of. Close enough."

"Doctor?" she murmurs into his chest. "You're really all right?"

"Yes. Now. Are you?" He pauses, sighs.

"Yeah." A beat. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Rose?"

"I've decided you're not allowed to die. For a very long time."

"I don't intend to. I rather like this life," he steps back and looks at her. "There's so much left to do. I think after we get married I may even like to try owning a house." Rose's eyes widen; in the stress of the other Doctor's regeneration, she forgets the earlier part of their afternoon. Now she remembers that the Doctor proposed. It was so matter of fact earlier, now it seems surreal. Good surreal.

"A mortgage? You?" She smirks.

"Well, I didn't say that. Your family _is _rich," he smiles. "And I'm sure we can get rid of the carpet. Not certain we can get away without doors, though."

"I thought this beach might beat us again," she looks down. "But it didn't."

"Nope," he pops the 'p.' She stands beside him, laces the fingers of her hand through his.

"Doctor?" She asks. He hums in reply. "I love you." She pauses a moment and smiles at him, he smiles in return. "And I'm really, really happy. A year ago, I wasn't sure. But here we are. Me 'n you. Still having adventures, even though they're a little slower and closer to home. Together forever."

"And shagging."

"Way to ruin the moment," she slaps his arm with her free hand.

"I happen to think that is one of the major perks of this whole stuck-on-earth, part-human life. Strike that, _the_ perk. The majorest of perks," he smiles so brightly she can't keep the put-upon expression on. "Frankly, if I was given the choice today between centuries of space adventures and a single lifetime shagging Rose Tyler…"

"You've earned your points for the evening, Doctor," she grins, biting her lip.

"Good to know. Shall we?" They begin the path toward the zeppelin. "That was a rather interesting birthday, if I say so."

"Sorry," she mutters.

"Don't be. Wouldn't have it any other way. We came back to the place we ended and started. There were endings and beginnings. Seems rather poetic to me," he smiles back at her. "I think, maybe not every year, but I think we should come back every so often."

"Why's that? I mean, it's beautiful, and I get facing up to it obviously, but to keep on coming back?"

"Maybe it's growing on me. Besides, the walls are thin here. We can come back and say—well, think—hello."

"To the Doctor? You're sure you're okay with that?"

"I'm not sure I'll ever be okay with whatever I am and he is and how we are the same and not and all that. I am, however, very okay with how this has all ended up. He gave us this life. Literally gave me life and gave me a life with you and gave you a life with me. It seems appropriate to say thank you. And maybe gloat, seeing as I'm rather certain I got the better end of the deal."

"You're awful," she smiles, "and wonderful." They crest the dunes and begin to walk toward the zeppelin. The Doctor pulls out his cell texts the crew to let down the ladder. When he pockets it again, Rose asks, "Doctor, before, when you said 'I didn't plan it' and then laughed and then you weren't gonna tell me?"

"Yes," he looks a bit sheepish.

"What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say," he looks over at the zeppelin, sees the ladder begin to descend, measures the distance in his head. "Technically, you planned it."

Rose glares at him, lifts her arm to slap him. Before she reaches him he turns to sprint for the ladder. She chases him. So they run, laughing.


	12. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

They crouch behind a trolley on the other side of which a rather angry Troglytron rampages toward the city center. Jake hollers "suggestions" over the intercom but he's not there on the ground, so Rose sets her transceiver to mute. The Doctor still refuses to carry a gun on Torchwood missions. Pete pesters Rose about protection and liability but she shrugs, says he's fighting a losing battle. Now she wonders what good a pistol is anyway when they're up against a wooly bloody mammoth.

Years on, the Doctor still misjudges his more human limits. Rose waits for him to catch his breath before she offers her suggestion regarding what to do next. He winks at her; she smiles back. She is about to speak when a car flies over their heads into the Plaça de Catalunya from the Carrer de Bergara and crashes to the ground ten meters in front of them. He giggles and she shakes her head. "I guess we revert to Emergency Plan C?"

"No other choice!" He grins. "Run!" So they run, laughing.

* * *

><p><em>(The Plaça de Catalunya is a lovely plaza in Barcelona, Spain)<em>


End file.
